


Trial by Felfire

by DancingHare



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen, outland - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 05:51:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13428153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingHare/pseuds/DancingHare
Summary: Ornasse steps foot on a strange world for the first time.





	Trial by Felfire

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published Aug. 20, 2007

For a fleeting moment he thought that nothing had happened; the scorched red ground warmed the pads of his paws just as it had moments ago, in the torn scar of the Blasted Lands.

One moment, before the overwhelming stench of fel fire clutched itself around his senses, choking in his throat and searing his eyes. The plagued lands of Lordaeron had been bad. The twisted woods of Felwood were worse. But he could not find words for how terrible this was. His vision cleared somewhat, his eyes still stinging but enough to focus on what now lay before him.

He padded slowly forth, as if entranced. He did not hear the cries and shouts of the commanders, the metallic twang of weapons unleashed. He saw only the tide of demons that crashed against the foot of the great stairway, an angry sea of twisted claws and teeth that swelled as far as he could see.

She had never really explained it, what had happened to Draenor, and why she lived as she did. He understood, now.

He lifted his head uncertainly, and chose a path leading north and west. The scorched ground hurt the pads of his paws, and the wild, alien sky afforded no hope of shade. He paused atop a small hill, where a strange plant clung tenaciously to life, on its own. Ornasse was struck by a sudden absurd fondness for it, though its leaves shimmered lightly with fel dust; he presumed the feeling was not mutual. Now he stood on only two feet, the oddity of the sensation soon passing.

From within a pouch at his waist, he drew out a rough brown seed. He could not recall exactly where it came from, but he knew he had been carrying it for some time. He let it fall at his feet, casting his hand over the place in the dust, the faint green light fading after it passed.

Nothing happened. Frowning, he stooped to retrieve the seed, brushing the strange red earth from its husk. He clutched it in his palm, near to his chest, and he thought he felt it tremble. He whispered to it, and the shell cracked, a single wan leaf struggling toward the strange, sunless light. So perhaps there was hope, after all. He tucked it carefully into his pouch again, turning to scan the horizon for the outpost.

Hands clutched at him, tiny clawed hands that seared. Snarling, he fell to all fours, lashing back at the imps in surprise and fury. There were three; one lay beneath his paws, another clung to his back and ears. The third capered and leapt as if to taunt him, screeching its incantations. He seized the wriggling imp in his jaws, clamping down around its midsection, choking at the taste upon his tongue. A streak of fire brushed over his back, singing a track in his fur. Roaring, he leapt upon the imp as it attempted to flee.

He narrowed his eyes, stinging again at the scent of fel fire. One of the imps’ hands still twitched, and he turned away in digust.

There would be more, he knew, many more before his work was finished here. Perhaps it would never truly be finished. But one thing he was certain of: That every challenge he faced, every trial the Legion set before him, every demon that fell to his claws, they were all in her name.


End file.
